


Over the Years

by invisiblyinked



Category: Peter Pan (Disney) (1953)
Genre: AND THEN THE LORD SAID "LET THERE BE ANGST!", Are you crying yet?, F/M, OTPPPPP, Peter/Wendy makes my heart hurt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-09
Updated: 2012-12-09
Packaged: 2017-11-20 17:40:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/588000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/invisiblyinked/pseuds/invisiblyinked
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She's still Wendy. She's still your Wendy. She's just older now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Over the Years

**Author's Note:**

> So I was watching Peter Pan the other day because I can and just—they are the ultimate angst pairing and any other argument is invalid.

There's something different about her, you think to yourself. You can't put your finger on it right away but you know she isn't exactly the same Wendy that flew away with you to Neverland.

 

( _“the second star to the right and then straight on from there 'till morning just take my hand let's go let's go!”)_

 

It's in the way she walks and the way her smiles sort of droop and don't quite reach her eyes anymore. You look to Tink, to see if she's noticed this change in Wendy too but the little fairy is busy playing around with the small brown teddy bear on the bed.

 

And that's when you notice that all of her toys are missing.

 

And _that's_ when it finally hits you, what's changed about her. She's grown up since the last time you saw her (and when was that? Three days ago? Two months? Five years? Keeping track of time is hard when you're forever young).

 

Suddenly you're angry and scowling and probably pouting but you don't _care_. You _told_ her that this would happen. God, you—you _knew_ she should've stayed in Neverland with you and the boys ( _“you can be our mother you can be the first Lost Girl! We'll stay young_ _ **forever).**_

 

“How have you been Peter? The boys are alright?” Wendy asks politely and she's always been well-mannered, that's something that won't change. You only nod because you're still angry and don't want to really talk to her and it's childish but then again so are you. She looks at you a little sadly (and you know she knows that you're upset with her, she's good at reading people like that, always has been, that's just Wendy) and then sighs. She gives you this small smile.

 

“Would you like to hear a story Peter?” Wendy asks. You remain silent, arms crossed over your chest and chin jutted out stubbornly. But Wendy is used to your stubbornness and she tells you anyway. “Once upon a time,” she starts, “There was a young prince who lived in a kingdom in the clouds.”

 

This captures your interest and for a moment you forget that you're upset and _not supposed to talk to her_. “The _clouds?”_ you repeat in disbelief and she nods. “Yes, the clouds. He lived there all his life and never once did he set foot on the land below the clouds. He heard stories of course, which made the young prince want to see it for himself. So one day,” Wendy says, “He did.”

 

You find yourself being sucked into the story of the young cloud prince and his adventures on the lands (and waters) below his kingdom. You've always loved when Wendy's storytelling, how she spun a thousand tales like a gypsy girl and always left you wanting t hear a thousand more. It feels just like old times again because you know she's still the same.

 

She's still your Wendy.

 

She's just older now.

 

You try to get her to come back with you when the story's over and it's time for you to leave. You linger outside the window, Tinkerbell sitting on your shoulder. Wendy shakes her head. “I'm sorry Peter, I really am,” she says, “but I—I just _can't_.” You frown because of course she can, she's done it before, she can't have really forgotten, right? “Why not?” you ask, “It's easy.” She gives you this look you can't quite identify and another one of those sad little smiles.

 

You have to stop yourself from scowling. You hatehate _hate_ the way it looks on her face.

 

“Oh Peter,” she says softly, “but it isn't.” You don't really understand what she means by this but you do know she isn't going to come with you to Neverland again (there's a pang in your chest and it hurts why does it hurt so much?). “Goodbye Peter,” Wendy tells you and you don't like the ways it sounds—final, like this is the last time (it probably is).

 

You are about to plead with her, yell, argue, throw a tantrum, scream that she should have _never ever ever grown up—_ but you don't. You're tired and she's tired and you just wish that things were different but they aren't so this is how it is now.

 

“I'll see you later Wendy,” you say (but you both know you probably won't) and then you leave. Behind you the window clicks shut softly. It almost sounds like an apology.


End file.
